


Christmas Dinner

by IannaKinney



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-09
Updated: 2014-12-09
Packaged: 2018-02-28 19:16:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 961
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2744039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IannaKinney/pseuds/IannaKinney
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek Hale is a drama queen and Stiles likes ugly Christmas sweaters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Christmas Dinner

Derek couldn't believe this was happening. He had gone through Kate Argent and the Darach and the Alpha pack but this has got to be the absolute worst thing he had ever had to do. Here he was in the ugliest, goddamn Christmas sweater in the entire world, standing on the snow covered porch of a certain Stilinski family with a cake he had made and was, quite honestly, close to freaking the hell out. Stiles invited Derek to Christmas dinner with the pack, werewolf and otherwise, with the condition that they match. An odd request, sure, but this was Stiles and he was the king of odd requests, so he had thought nothing of it. When Stiles had shown up to the loft with the sweater, Derek considered chucking himself or Stiles out the window to avoid embarrassment. It was a knit, oversized sweater with a picture of Rudolph and a light up nose.  
He said no. Stiles pleaded. He said hell no. Stiles begged. He said there was no way in heaven, hell, or purgatory that he would wear that dumbass shirt. Stiles threw a tantrum and he ended up with Rudolph and his light up nose on his chest. 

And here he was. Derek almost turned back and went home to drink away his Christmas, but then thought of how Stiles and the others might kill him if he didn't come, especially Lydia, who planned the whole thing, or Ms. McCall, who had basically adopted him as one of her own.  
He knocked and, suddenly, there was Stiles in a snowflake sweater that lit up the colors of the rainbow and a beaming smile.

“Finally! Come on in, man! The food's nearly done,” Stiles said, nearly hitting him with a flailing arm. He rolled his eyes and shoved the cake into the teen`s arms.

“Here. For dessert,” he grunted. 

“Thanks, dude. What flavor is it?”

“Vanilla.”

“Wow, you are especially loquacious today, aren't you?” Stiles smiled mockingly. Derek just glared. 

“Alright well, everyone`s in the dining room, so go on in.” Stiles pointed and Derek went. 

Of course, when he walked through the threshold, the room erupted in laughs. He glared at them but it was really just him trying not to blush as red as Rudolph's nose. 

Dinner actually went nicely, despite the whispered comments by most of the pack about the damned sweaters and the constant jeering by Jackson. Derek had to remind himself to tell Lydia about the time Jackson dropped his pants in front of an entire bar and danced the Cotton Eyed Joe after having too many tequilas. Gradually, people went left and went home, bundled up and smiling. Derek was the last person to be there; it was a complete accident. He had gotten into an argument with the Sheriff about whether fairies exist (it is best not to ask how the subject came up). Finishing up the coffee made for him by Stiles, he stood up and nodded to Sheriff Stilinski.

"I best get going. Thanks for having me," he bid farewell. John nodded back.

"Sure, sure," John swiftly grabbed his arm and pulled him down so they were inches away,"If you hurt my son, I will get Argent on your ass. Do you understand me?"

Quite baffled at the threat, Derek nodded. This wasn't the first time someone had threatened him about hurting Stiles. There was Scott the other week, though he was about as scary as a growling puppy, and Allison a few days ago, more frightening but the code kept her from actually going through with the statement. The one that really freaked him out was the extremely descriptive threat by Lydia who told him all the ways she could murder him with a rusty, blunt knife if he even thought about hurting a tiny hair on Stiles' head. Yeah, there will be nightmares about that.

Well, maybe the remarks weren't as confusing as Derek would like them to be. He and Stiles had been dancing around each other for a while now, neither of them wanting to change what their friendship was. Hell, if he didn't care about the kid, he wouldn't be wearing this stupid (disgusting, gaudy, etc.) sweater. 

After the he was read the riot act, Derek made for the door, but not before a voice called from the kitchen, "Derek! You leavin'?" and Stiles appeared in the doorway. Stiles was grinning widely and he had some bubbles from the dishes in his hair. It was adorable. Like really adorable.Anyway, he wasn't exactly tongue-tied as...well...yeah he was. Stiles didn't seem to notice and turned Derek around toward the door.

"I'll walk you to the door." Derek tried to smile but ended up grimacing. "I'm glad you came, man. I almost thought you wouldn't come." A sheepish look crossed Stiles' face.

"Why?"

"The, uh..." Stiles said with a vague hand motion. He raised an eyebrow. "The sweaters..."

"The sweaters...?"

"Yeah, I mean, they're ugly and all that and its kinda a tradition for me to do this and I thought why not ask Derek if he wanted to do it, too, but I pretty much bullied you into it and i thought you'd just cancel, 'cause that seems like something you'd do and--"

"Stiles." Stiles' mouth snapped shut. "Of course I'd do this for you. I'd do anything for you." Okay, he hadn't planned on saying that last part. Derek shuffled awkwardly and made to leave, when Stiles quickly reached a hand behind his neck and brushed his lips against Derek's own.

"Me too, Sourwolf." A sweet smile swept across Stiles' lips and they kissed again, this time longer and slower.

Derek had to admit, Christmas had been pretty great.


End file.
